Sempiternal
by keepcalmandshiptiva94
Summary: "What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. " -T.S. Elliot. TxZ, because someone on tumblr gave me the idea and then I got told to write it. Tags to 11x02, I guess.
1. Chapter 1

**Someone was talking about something on tumblr that led to me thinking something and you get this. It will have a second part so don't shoot me. **

* * *

It's not the easiest thing to do, telling someone goodbye, and over the years, Tony DiNozzo has told his fair share of them. He had to say goodbye to his mom, to Wendy, to Kate, to Jeanne- the list goes on and on in the back of his mind, reminding him how most good things always end.

He just never thought _this _would.

He'd spent weeks looking for her, days trying to figure out what to do once he'd figured out her location, and it'd taken him a few hours to find her once he'd actually landed on Israeli soil. When he saw her, though, it was worth every second spent.

Not much was said when they first laid eyes on each other. They stared for a minute or two before she finally blinked and said, "Hey."

Just "Hey". Nothing special, nothing enlightening. He hadn't realized exactly how much he'd missed her voice before she'd spoken, and he'd hugged her before he'd registered the movement, pulling her body close to his and holding her tightly.

She'd been shocked at first, possibly still rather surprised to see him there at all, but after a moment, she'd wrapped her arms around his waist and relaxed against him, her face pressed into his chest.

There'd been a long silence as they had stood there, neither really wanting to let go. Her fingers curled where they rested on his back and he let out a shaky breath, hoping that she hadn't noticed and knowing that she probably had. She'd looked up at him without moving out of the embrace, giving him a small smile. "You found me."

He had chuckled a little at her words, shaking his head just the slightest. "Of course."

"This is pretty," he says as she leads him into an orchard. There's a light breeze blowing through the trees and he's following a few feet behind her, hands in his pockets. She turns, and her face falls at the sight of his. "You must like it here," he adds as an afterthought.

She purses her lips and crosses her arms over her stomach. "I do." She takes a tentative step toward him, her eyes desperately pleading with him. For what, he isn't sure, but he hates the expression it leaves on her face. The question he wants to ask is burning on his tongue, and despite trying to clear his throat a few times, he can't quite get those words out.

Instead, he gestures again to the area around them. "Do you come here a lot?"

She looks around and he's relieved for the moment that he doesn't have the weight of her gaze on him. The wind blows her wild curls around and he's struck for a moment by how absolutely stunning she is. Maybe he's just a fool for her hair.

"I suppose. It is very peaceful. I feel it will... come in handy when-" She trails off, looking back at him.

"You're staying here, aren't you?" The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, and her sentence cuts off abruptly. He clears his throat a little at the sound of how rough his voice is, but the action does little to rid himself of the knot forming.

"Tony, I... I have-" She struggles with words that won't come out, and he can't handle the weight of that.

"No, you don't, Ziva." He cuts her off, fighting tears now. She opens her mouth to argue back with him, but he doesn't want to hear her excuses. "No, just... come home with me." Her expression flickers and she closes her mouth quickly. "Just come home with me. We can figure this out. We can do something. You don't have to stay here. It's not where you belong."

She steps closer, her eyes soft but he knows she isn't wavering. "You know that I cannot do that. It..." She trails off, turning away from him as if to hide her tears. "I _wish_ that..." She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

He moves slowly around her until he's facing her again. He stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, he reaches for her carefully, tugging her arms free from around her waist. They fall to her sides, but she doesn't look up at him. "Ziva." Her name falls from his lips and she glances up, tears soaking her cheeks. He reaches up, wiping them away. Once her face is dry again, he lets his hands travel down her arms and to her waist.

She watches him closely for a moment before slowly lifting one hand to his cheek, letting her fingers run over the beard he's grown out. A small smile graces her lips as her other hand follows, her palms curling around his face and moving down to his neck. He loses himself in the feeling of her hands, so gentle and loving. Tears sting his own eyes now, and taking a breath requires more work than it should. He lets out a heavy sigh, letting his forehead drop to hers. Her hands continue to linger over his face and neck as his grip on her waist tightens. There's so much he wants to say, so much he wants to tell her to convince her to leave with him, to let him protect her from the world. In the end, no words are found so instead of speaking, his lips find hers, and it's then that the first tear falls down his face.

He kisses her slowly at first, but the desire and want they've built up over the years is monumental, and it isn't long until she's pressing her body close to his, her lips demanding and unashamed. She whimpers into his mouth and he can feel himself breaking at the sound so unlike anything he's ever heard from her. They break apart when the need for oxygen becomes apparent, their breathing heavy and ragged.

"I'm fighting for you, Ziva," he whispers once he's caught his breath, knowing that deep down, that's something she's always wanted.

"I know," she tells him in response, and he can hear the "but" at the end of the sentence even though she never speaks it.

"Please, don't do this to me." His voice breaks through the pain flaring up in his chest, and he opens his eyes to see that her own are travelling over his face, as if memorizing every contour. "I can't leave you tomorrow. I can't do that again."

Instead of responding, her hands find his, intertwining their fingers. There's a new desire behind her eyes now as she tugs slightly, prompting him to follow her back to the small house hidden behind an orchard where no one would ever think to look.

She wants him to come with her, wants him to follow her.

And, just like always, he does.

The guilt settles in once the high wears off and they're both lying underneath a single black sheet, their legs and arms tangled. She's completely silent where she is, tucked into his side and tracing patterns into his chest with her index finger. The quiet is maddening, and he wants to say something, anything to break the deafening silence. He can't find any words, however, so the silence plays on, the only noise the sound of their steady breathing.

He keeps thinking that making love to her like that will only make it harder, and that maybe they shouldn't have done that. He also knows with certainty that it was probably inevitable anyway. He moves his head to the side and glances at the clock, noting that they have a few more hours until a plane lands a few miles away to pick him up. Only him. Not her.

He sits up suddenly, and it takes a moment for her to follow his actions. He feels her eyes on him, but he can't find it in him to look up at her. She's still for the longest time, it seems, and then her forehead is resting on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Tony."

His breath catches and a low groan escapes him because _she's apologizing to him_. She's saying that she's sorry for loving him like he knows only she can. She's asking for his forgiveness for giving him something he's always dreamed about. He closes his eyes, trying not to sink into a state of depression before he's even left her. He lifts his arm and wraps it around her, holding her close to him. "Don't apologize, Ziva. I wouldn't take it back for anything."

The words are said to be comforting, but as soon as they're said, he knows that he meant it. She sighs, pressing her face into his chest. "Would you hate me if I told you that I love you?" Her voice is so low he almost doesn't hear her, but the words reach his ears anyway. His heart tugs painfully in his chest and he pulls her even closer.

"No, Ziva, no." _I could never hate you. I love you, too._ The words echo in his mind but get stuck in his throat. She seems to accept that, however, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before slipping out of his arms and heading to the bathroom. He is left staring in the direction she disappeared in, wishing that someone upstairs would listen to him and do something to make it so he doesn't have to get on a plane without her. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually makes himself get dressed while he listens to shower water run, and then he sits on the edge of the bed for the longest time, listening to the steady stream hit the bottom of the shower.

When it stops, he feels like his heart does, too.

Their goodbye comes much too soon, and as they stand a hundred yards away from a plane headed back to the United States, he clings to her waist and does his best not to break down and sob. Her arms are wrapped around him tightly, her face pressed into his neck as she takes shaky breaths.

"I will miss you," she says quietly, her fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt.

He swallows, his eyes stinging with moisture as he presses a kiss to her head. "I'll miss you, too, sweetheart." He's pretty sure that the pet name has never been used so seriously before, and her breath hitches a little as it's uttered.

She pulls away slowly, a few tearstains on her cheeks. He brings his hands up to cup her face, kissing her with everything he has in him. Her lips mold themselves to his so perfectly that he can't help but think they were meant to. That thought is too painful, though, so he focuses instead on how her mouth feels against his. He memorizes the feeling of kissing her, of her arms wrapped so snugly around his waist, of her tears hitting his fingers.

He finally is able to pry himself away from her, and as he starts to walk toward the plane, he stops short, turning back around. _"Would you hate me if I told you that I love you?"_

She's confused at his sudden stop, her hands clenched together in front of her. He walks back to her, grabbing her face and kissing her one last time. When he pulls away, she's breathless. Her eyes ask burning questions, but he presses a kiss to her forehead, whispering against the skin there.

"I love you, too." The sincerity in his voice is strong, and she trembles slightly at the weight of his words. It's even harder to pull away this time, and when he does, this time he forces himself not to look back.

He just does hear a sob escape her as he walks away.

She moves around a couple times over the next few weeks, but then she can't find it in her to move again because her body starts protesting against her, making her sick at random times during the day and night. She isn't sure what it could be and assumes that she's simply caught a virus.

It isn't until about a week later that she realizes it's been a little too long since her last period. She gathers up some cash and finds a small store that sells what she's looking for, her heart pounding the entire time.

An hour later, she's sobbing in the floor of a cheap motel bathroom, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist and a pregnancy test with two pink lines on the screen lying beside her.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I wrote this out before we found out Ziva's reasons for staying were to "find herself" or whatever. This is following the idea that she stayed because someone was after her or something like that. This is the part two of two, so no, there won't be anything after this. Thanks for reading! **

**_Eighteen Months Later_**

"DiNozzo."

"DiNozzo?"

_"DiNozzo!"_

Tony jumps, snapping out of his silent trance to see an angry Gibbs glaring at him. "S-Sorry, Gibbs," he stammers, looking away from the intensity of the stare boring into him.

Gibbs narrows his eyes. "What is it, Tony?"

The use of his first name lets Tony know that Gibbs is serious, and so he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I miss Ziva," he says honestly, feeling his heart break even more as he says the words. He lets his eyes travel to the small picture of her he keeps on his desk, from the previous Christmas. It's a picture of both of them, actually. There had been alcohol involved and they were both making goofy faces. Tony's was goofier, of course, but Ziva's had her tongue poked out, her eyes bright and her smile wide. She looked beautiful.

He doesn't look up to see the expression Gibbs will have on his face because while he isn't sure what the expression will be, he is sure that it probably won't help matters much.

"Have you talked to her?" Gibbs asks, and Tony can almost hear the judgement in his tone.

"I tried a couple times after I got back. She never responded." Tony stares intently at the Israeli flag from Ziva's desk that he'd put beside his own American one the second he'd got back from Israel. "I guess she didn't want to come home."

"You don't know that," Gibbs tells him softly. "Go get some lunch, DiNozzo. We'll still be here when you get back."

Tony nods and gets up, heading down the elevator and outside to the yard. He looks around for a moment before deciding that he isn't all that hungry and sitting down on a bench. He lets out a heavy sigh, putting his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.

He hates missing her likes this.

That night, half way through his first beer, there's a single knock on his door followed by a tap, as if the person was going to knock again but faltered half way through the motion. He answers the door, planning to make a demeaning remark to whoever could be bothering him, but he stops short when he sees who it is.

"Ziva." Her name falls from his lips and he swallows hard, taking in her appearance. The first thing he sees is how scared she looks. The second is the carrier she's holding in her right hand.

A carrier with a baby inside it.

He looks back up at her and then back to the infant, trying to judge how old she may be and then doing the math in his head. His entire body freezes as his gaze travels back and forth, and the first thing she says is "I am sorry".

"Sorry?" The question shoots out of his mouth incredulously. "Ziva, is she..." He can't even find it in him to finish the sentence, but she closes her eyes and nods once. "You... I... She's..."

He moves backwards to sit down on the chair a few feet behind him, no longer trusting his legs to hold him up. Ziva takes a few hesitant steps into his apartment and shuts the door behind her, setting the carrier down gently.

"Before you left, when we..." She stops, shrugging and looking down at her feet.

His brain finally catches up and he interrupts her, his voice short and sharp. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She opens her mouth twice before finally uttering, "I was scared, Tony. I did not know what to do."

"But you didn't think letting me know that you were pregnant with my child was important?" he questions, his heart rate picking up significant speed. His voice has picked up an edge he didn't know he was capable of toward her.

"I was still hiding at the time, and by the time I found out that everything had been settled..." She swallows hard. "By then, it had been some time, and I did not want to burden you. I handled it."

"But she's my child, Ziva! You had no right to keep that from me!" He's definitely angry now, the realization of what she did setting in.

"I know!" She retorts, and it's then that he sees the tears in her eyes. One slips down her cheek and he resists the almost automatic urge to wipe it away. "Okay? I know. And nothing you can say will... make me feel any worse than I already do."

A cry comes from the carrier, and Ziva's attention is automatically transferred to the crying baby. "Shh, Rosabella." She picks up the baby, holding her close to her body and shushing her. "Bella, sweetie, it is okay."

Tony feels his heart tug. "Rosabella is Italian. That was my grandmother's name."

Ziva looks up, eyes softer. "I know, you told me once."

His heart tugs, and some of his anger dissipates as he stares at the infant in Ziva's arms, watching in amazement as her cries soften and then stop altogether. He takes a breath, trying to think through the confusion still lingering in his mind. "Okay, so you were scared. You didn't know what to do. You were hiding out from people who wanted to kill you. Did you ever consider-"

"No."

Her answer is so sharp that he's taken back, but part of him is relieved at her answer. One glance at her face is all it takes to know that the thought truly never crossed her mind. "You wanted her," he states, watching as Ziva looks down at Rosabella before nodding.

"She is half of you, too. I could not have done that even if I had wanted to." Ziva shrugs lightly, as if this explanation is enough.

Tony swallows past the knot forming in his throat. "C-can I hold her?"

Ziva smiles at him, nodding before carefully placing Rosabella in his arms. She opens her eyes slightly, looking up at him with a curious gaze. Tears prick his eyes as he looks at her. "She's beautiful," he says, awed.

"She has your eyes," Ziva comments, and when he looks up at her, all he sees is love and admiration.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me," he starts, and Ziva's expression dims just the slightest. "But you're telling me now, and you're here?" She nods, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "And I guess I could understand you being scared. I... I just don't know how I'm supposed to act right now."

She gives him a sad smile. "Me either. I am sorry, though, Tony. I was... looking out my window a few days ago and I saw a couple with a baby of their own. I realized then that I had made a terrible mistake. I know that I should have told you, even under the circumstances, and I am sorry that I did not do so. If you are willing to give me your forgiveness, I hope I can make it up to you."

And as much as he wants to be angry at her for keeping this from him, all it takes is staring down into his daughter's face to remove any ounce of anger he had. He looks back up at Ziva, whose expression is guarded, and then he gives her a small smile. "Maybe we can work something out."

A smile of relief pulls up the corners of her mouth and her entire body relaxes. He thinks he sees a tear slip down her cheek, but he isn't sure.

His attention is focused all on the little girl safely tucked in his arms.

It isn't easy, but Ziva assures him that she's come back to stay, driven by the guilt of not letting him get to see his daughter be born. It doesn't take long for Rosabella to become a fool about her father, but it takes an even shorter amount of time for Tony to become completely wrapped around the infant's finger.

The first night, Tony offers to let Ziva stay with him, and she knows better than to object. So, for the time being, she sleeps in a bed that smells like him and he sleeps on the couch in his living room.

Any talking they should get done gets put on hold, and it's a week later before Ziva finally gets the nerves to approach him. She wakes up a little later than usual on a Saturday and heads into the living room, planning to find Tony sleeping on the couch. Instead, she finds him awake in the nursery, feeding a very happy looking Rosabella.

He smiles at her, and the situation suddenly feels much too domestic. She freezes where she stands in the doorway, her heart beating just a little faster. "Did you... did you make it like I showed you?"

"Exactly, promise," he says, watching as the last remnants of milk disappear from the bottle. "Okay, up you go." He gently transfers her to his shoulder and starts patting her on the back. Tears suddenly sting Ziva's eyes and she blinks them away, her stomach churning just the slightest.

She hates herself for making the mistake of not coming back sooner.

Tony seems to sense her distress and fixes her with a gaze that feels as if it bores into her innermost thoughts. "What's up, Ziva?"

"You are... so good with her," she says, her voice falters slightly, and Tony's features shift, his eyes softening. Anything she wants to tell him gets stuck somewhere between her brain and her lips, so she just stares at him helplessly, her heart tugging to the point that it's nearly painful.

He seems just as lost for words as he carefully lowers Rosabella into her crib, flipping a small switch on her mobile to make it begin slowly spinning. Once he sees that Rosabella is effectively distracted by the moving object, he looks at Ziva. Her breath catches in her throat as his eyes study her, and they stare at each other for what seems to be the longest time. He's only a few feet in front of her, but they're both frozen, the air heavy.

"What are we doing?" she finally says, and the question sounds strange to her.

He shrugs, looking down at Rosabella, who is watching her mobile spin with wide eyes. "What do you want to do?"

Guilt floods her, because he shouldn't be asking her. Not after what she'd done. "I... I want you here, with... her. With... with me."

His eyes meet hers, and he takes a few steps forward, reaching out and picking up her hand. He turns it over in his own, taking a moment to appreciate how it feels. "I like that idea."

She can't help but smile a little. "Me, too."

When he kisses her, it's gentle and much too brief, but it holds promise.

Promise that they'll figure out whatever they need to. Promise that neither of them is going to walk away. Promise that even though life had thrown them for a loop and made things hard for them, they were going to make it through.

Because he loved her. Because she loved him. Because a love like theirs is anything but temporary. A love like theirs survives no matter what trials may arise or what troubles may try to interfere. A love like theirs is forever.


End file.
